


The Web-Slinger: A Spider-Man One-Shot Collection

by skywalker17



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Comedy, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalker17/pseuds/skywalker17
Summary: (*IN PROGRESS*) A collection of random one-shots featuring Peter Parker, a.k.a. Spider-Man (MCU Version). Lots of fluffy stuff and light-hearted comedy, but occasionally some angst as well.  Series does not follow a strict story/plot-line, but they do connect with each other. Post-Homecoming, pre-Infinity War. (Also being published on Wattpad under Skywalker317 and Fanfiction.net under skywalker17)





	1. The Wal-Mart Debacle

Spider-Man. That's me. I'm Spider-Man. Which is cool and all, but it's not a huge help when it comes to American History.

"Why does it matter what year Benedict Armstrong defected?" I groaned, slamming my textbook shut and tossing it carelessly onto my bedroom floor. Ned, perched on the bottom bunk of the bedset, threw me a dirty glare, shaking his head in disapproval as I hung from the ceiling listlessly.

"It's Benedict Arnold," he corrected, setting down his stack of notes. "And Peter, you need to study if you're going to pass finals next week. You're barely getting by in History."

"I've had more important things to do," I mumbled.

"Oh," Ned retorted. "Like that ATM robbery the other week where you almost stopped the cops from getting the guy?"

"Besides that."

"Or the time three days ago when you skipped third period because you were convinced the janitor was dealing drugs, but he was actually just having an affair with Mrs. Johnston?"

"Hey, he looked fishy," I exclaimed indignantly.

"I think the world can do without Spider-Man for a few days," Ned replied, his gaze growing more serious. "Besides, I thought May went all psycho-aunt after finding out and grounded you or something."

"That was months ago," I said. "And Mr. Stark took her out to a nice dinner and explained the whole thing, talked some sense into her, you know. Everything's cool now. Except I can't be out past 11, but other than that."

"Wow," Ned murmured sardonically. "A superhero with a curfew. Better hope all the ATM robbers don't find out." I frowned, then snatched an empty soda can from my bedside table with a web, chucking it at Ned's head while he chuckled to himself. Slipping down to the floor, I strode to the window and parted the curtains, peering outside.

"I just don't wanna miss anything," I said quietly.

"You won't," Ned assured me, shifting on the bottom bunk. "Now come on, let's go over the Revolutionary War again." I sighed heavily, running a hand through my dark hair.

"Alri -"

Before I could finish, I was interrupted by an alarm ringing loudly from my computer. Leaping across the room in a single bound, I clicked excitedly until I discovered the source of the alarm.

"There's an armed robbery at the Wal-Mart ten blocks from here," I practically shouted. "It looks like they have a hostage!"

"Peter, it's Tuesday," Ned said with an exaggerated yawn. "Can we let the police handle it for once?"

"I gotta go, Ned," I argued, tossing him an earpiece as I stripped out of my t-shirt and sweatpants. "Besides, if you didn't want me doing this kind of stuff, you shouldn't have helped me hack into the emergency dispatch network."

"Fair point," Ned relented, abandoning the stack of books beside of him and sauntering over to the computer, where he took a seat and began clicking away.

"Thanks, bro," I murmured, smiling appreciatively as I dawned my suit. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I slipped the mask over my head, and a soft, familiar voice filled my ears.

"Good evening, Peter."

"Hey, Karen," I mumbled, giving Ned one final nod as I slid open the window and darted outside. 

"A little close to curfew, aren't we?" said Karen as I propelled myself across the street.

"I have 37 minutes," I protested, slinging my body across another block as a long web shot from my wrist. "Plenty of time for a robbery and hostage situation."

"Shall I replay some audio from the last time you missed curfew?" Karen queried. There was a crackle, and then my head was suddenly slammed with the sound of Aunt May yelling nonsensically.

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," I grumbled, and Karen promptly shut off the noise.

"I'm with you on this one, Karen," came Ned's voice over the comm.

"You know," I said, "You guys could try being encouraging."

"Don't die out there, buddy," was Ned's response.

"I echo Mr. Leed's sentiments," Karen added.

Grunting to myself, I closed the distance between myself and the approaching Wal-Mart. At last, I reached the roof. Glancing to the streets below, I spotted a squadron of police cars gathering by the entrance. A swarm of cops were standing by, talking into their walkies and swaggering about with their guns bared.

"Any word from the police channels?" I asked, pressing a finger to my ear.

"There are three men and one woman, all of them armed," Karen answered. "They're in the back of the store in the electronics section."

"Okay," I mumbled to myself. "Not too bad. How many hostages?"

"Two," said Karen. "An employee and a civilian. There's a ventilation shaft fifty feet behind you, which will take you close to the electronics section."

"Thanks Karen," I replied, sprinting across the rooftop to the top of the shaft.

Removing the metal plate on top took a minute or so, then I carefully crawled down the shaft. It was cold, to say the least, and I shivered underneath my suit.

"Your body temperature is decreasing rapidly, Peter." Karen remarked. "Shall I activate the suit's heating system?"

"Yeah, th-that'd be great," I responded through chattering teeth. A rush of warmth began to seep into my skin, and I blinked, clearing my focus as I neared the end of the tunnel.

Popping my head into the open, I gazed down to find myself directly above the children's clothing. No customers in sight. Relief flowed through my veins, and I crawled into the high rafters of the ceiling with a boost of confidence.

Across from the clothing lay the electronics. As I navigated towards the section, moving carefully across the rafters, trepidation began to sink into my heart. I picked up the sounds of shouting, and I strained my ears to listen in. Peaking in between the rafters, I noticed a group of four, all dressed in black and wearing ski masks. Two, a man and a woman, were carrying rifles, while the others bore pistols. On the floor between the four of them sat the hostages.

"I've got eyes on the hostages," I murmured.

"What's it look like in there?" Ned asked. I glanced over the two hostages. There was a middle-aged, red-haired man wearing a Wal-Mart uniform, and a young girl with curly black hair and a familiar jacket. I squinted, peering closer at the girl.

My heart stopped.

"Oh no..." I said. "No no no...'

"What is it?" Ned inquired, his voice spiked with panic.

"It's her, Ned," I replied in a rushed tone as terror shot through every inch of my body.

"Who?" Ned shouted. "Please tell me it's Jennifer Lawrence. That would be so hot."

"It's MJ!" I hissed, my voice starting to tremble.

"Michelle?" Ned screeched. "Are you kidding me?"

"What do I do?!" I asked to no one in particular.

"Well you can't let her die!" Ned answered. "She's the Decathlon Captain! We'll suck without her, and I need to get in as many extracurriculars as I can."

"Although Mr. Leed's priorities are a bit skewed," Karen broke in, "I agree that you should offer your assistance as soon as possible in ending this dilemma."

"Alright," I whispered. "I"m going in."

I sneaked noiselessly across the rafters, drawing ever closer. I could feel sweat dripping down my forehead underneath my suit, although I wasn't sure if it was from the heating system, or the pressure that had suddenly crashed into my pounding skull. As I paused directly above MJ and the rest, I finally caught on to the words of her captors.

"The cops are gonna storm this place any second," the woman was saying in a nervous tone, her words muffled ever so slightly underneath her mask. "We should just go. We'll get enough cash with all these devices." My eyes swung to the left, and I realized the man and woman with the rifles were both hefting large, bulging bags across their backs.

"That idiot manager will be back with the money from the safe in a minute, Cat," one of the men with a pistol growled. He suddenly reached towards MJ, grabbing the collar of her jacket and yanking her backward. Her face was etched in fear, but she remained silent as he jammed the business end of his pistol against the side of her head. "And if he plays any tricks, then we'll give these tiles a makeover with the girl's brains. I think red would add a nice bit of color, don't you think?" A wave of anger shot through my body like fuel as the man and his cronies burst into laughter, and MJ squirmed uncomfortably. Without another thought, I swung silently from the rafters, hovering just a few sparse inches above the man's head.

"If you ask me, I think yellow would be a better choice," I said, struggling to keep my voice calm.

The man whirled around, and was greeted with a thick web splattered across his face. Squealing like a newborn piglet, he began scraping away the webbing. I launched an aggressive kick into his stomach, sending hims sprawling to the floor, his gun clattering loudly onto the tiles.

"Then again," I continued, shrugging nonchalantly as the other three turned towards me. "I'm not much of an interior designer."

In the blink of an eye, the men sprung towards me while the woman attempted to gather the bags of stolen goods and keep a gun trained on MJ. Still dangling from the ceiling with one arm, I kicked off from a nearby stand, then shot a web around the two men as I spun in a tight circle around them. Stuck together, they shouted angrily as I snatched their weapons and deposited them by the first man's pistol.

Wal-Mart Man was making a run for it, and the woman let the employee run into the clothing section as she struggled to carry both of the massive bags while forcing MJ alongside of her.

"Hey!" I shouted, latching a web onto a pillar just ahead of them. "Why don't you try these electronics!" As I swung past, Karen switched to a personal favorite web-combination of ours, and I zapped the woman directly in the back. Electric tendrils zig-zagged across her torso, and she burst into a fit of convulsions, collapsing to the ground. "Yeah!" I exclaimed ecstatically, pumping a fist into the air in celebration.

Then, I face-planted into the pillar. Not my best moment, I admit. I slid to the floor, my face flaming brighter than the outside of my suit.

"Wow," an all-too familiar voice said from behind me as I picked myself off of the tiled floor. "So graceful." I gulped, trying to look casual as I spun around to see MJ dusting herself off.

"Are you ok?" I asked, my embarrassment forgotten as I noticed a bruise already swelling on the side of her face. I started forward, then stopped myself, clenching my fists as I cleared my throat. "I mean, they didn't harm you?"

"You could at least try not to sound like a prepubescent, Peter," Ned's voice teased in my ear.

"Nothing serious," MJ answered, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied me through narrowed eyes. "Do you remember me, Spider-Man?" she queried, her tone almost taunting. "D.C.? Washington Monument?" I swallowed the lump in my throat, pretending to appear shocked.

"Oh, D.C.," I said, chuckling lightly and waving the comment away. "Yeah, that was... that was nothing, really. Glad to do it."

"Um-hmm," MJ murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Well, you should really be going before the cops get here."

"Right, yeah," I replied, glancing upwards towards the rafters, shooting a web to the nearest beam. "Have a nice night M-" I coughed, correcting myself. "M-Ma'am. Have a nice night, ma'am."

"Hey," MJ called after me as I raised myself into the air towards the ceiling. "Thanks," she said, and I glanced down in time to see a rare smile light up her face.

"Y-yeah, no problem," I stammered, giving her a thumbs-up before scurrying back up to the rafters.

My heart slammed in my chest as the leftover adrenaline pumped through my blood.

"Sounding a little nervous there, Pete," Ned commented through the earpiece. "Don't get me wrong, she's cute and all -"

"Shut up, Ned," I riposted. "MJ's a friend. I... I just didn't want her to get hurt."

"Uh-huh," was Ned's response. I rolled my eyes, and didn't say anything else for the remainder of the journey back home. I re-entered my room through the window just as the clock struck 11 o'clock.

And thus another night as Spider-Man came to a close.


	2. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May have gone a little overboard on the angst with this one, but oh well. Also a special guest appearance from a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist...

I stood on the edge of a rocky precipice, looking down into a gaping canyon. Atop a wide stone pillar looming in the center of the ravine, I recognized three faces; Ned, Liz, and Michelle. They waved wildly in my direction, screaming at the top of the their lungs.   
“Help us!” they cried in unison.   
A flock of vultures suddenly swooped down from the sky, circling the pillar as their harsh screeches filled the air, echoing all around me. Their yellow eyes gleamed with hunger and rage. Instinctively, I raised my arm, attempting to shoot a web. Nothing. I realized my arm was bare, and my suit was nowhere to be seen.   
“You can’t save them.”   
I froze. My blood ran cold. That voice… it couldn’t be.   
Shaking my head to clear my senses, I tried another web, but was greeted with the same results. The mocking, gravelly voice repeated its dire taunt, and I struggled to shut out the noise. “You call yourself a hero?” the voice went on. “You’re weak. And pathetic. No wonder Liz left you.”   
Gritting my teeth, I walked along the cliff’s edge, hoping to find something to help my trapped friends. Still, the all-too familiar voice persisted. “You’re just a boy. You’ll never be a hero.”   
“Stop,” I grunted, raising my hands to plug my ears. Nothing could stop the voice, however. It rose to a shout, like gunshots ricocheting inside my head.   
“You’ll never get rid of me, Peter.”   
“Just shut up!” I screamed, my knees buckling as I collapsed to the ground, holding my head between trembling hands.   
The vultures abandoned their pursuit of my friends, suddenly turning to me instead. In a flurry of feathers and flashing talons, I was mauled by the swarm of ferocious birds. They tore at my clothes, my skin, my face, every inch of me. Panic overwhelmed me, and I cried out in terror. Then, through the pack of vultures, I spotted… him.   
The Vulture.   
Blood dripped from the edges of his mechanical wings, and his yellow eyes glowed threateningly. He approached me, and his vulture minions parted to make way for him. I tried to crawl backward, away from the cliffs, but my efforts were in vain. He drifted closer, and closer still.   
“I’ll always be with you, Peter.”   
“NO!” I shouted, leaping upright in bed. My head promptly banged against the top bunk of my bedset, and I resisted the urge to swear as my skull immediately throbbed from the blinding pain.   
Within moments, I heard a door open down the hall, and footsteps racing towards my room. I swallowed, glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand to see it flashing 3:19am in bright red letters. The door was pulled open, and Aunt May rushed towards me with a concerned look etched across her face.   
“Peter, what’s wrong?” she whispered, kneeling down beside my bed as I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, hanging my aching head.   
“Nothing,” I assured her. I managed a weak smile despite the pounding of my heart inside my chest, and beads of sweat that lined my brow. “Just a bad dream.”   
“Well, try to get some sleep,” murmured May, running a playful hand through my hair as she stood to her feet. “You have a big day tomorrow.”   
“I’ll try,” I responded halfheartedly.   
“Let me know if you need anything,” May practically sang as she waltzed out the door, shutting it softly behind her.   
With a hefty sigh, I flopped down onto my bed, letting the troublesome burdens of slumber overcome me once again. 

******

“So, why did Mr. Stark ask you to come by today?” Ned asked. I shifted nervously in my seat beside of him, glancing out the window of the sleek, black limousine.   
“Just a progress report,” I mumbled. “He likes to keep tabs on me.”   
“Can’t he just call you or something?” Ned remarked.   
“That’s what I wanna know,” a disgruntled voice said from across the aisle. None other than Happy Hogan had been assigned as their chaperon, and he was now glaring daggers at both Ned and I. “I’m getting a little tired of babysitting. And to make it worse, there’s two of you now.”   
“Mr. Stark wanted to meet my partner,” I quickly replied as Ned dawned an indignant expression. “And I’m sure that Ned will be on his absolute best behavior,” I added, nudging him with my elbow.  
“Of course,” said Ned with a wild grin. “But I do get to try on one of the Iron Man suits, right?”   
Happy rolled his eyes, and I threw Ned a glare as the limo turned into the entrance for the Avengers Headquarters. The HQ building was quite the sight, and I still felt the familiar sense of awe come over me as we approached the shiny, lustrous entryway.   
The limo dropped us off at the front doors, where Happy begrudgingly held the door open, shooing us inside with a wave of his hand. From there, Ned and I scrambled after him, racing to keep up with his hurried steps as he led us up an elevator to the second floor, down several hallways and corridors, all leading to a large office in the southern corner of the building. Ned was smiling like a fool the entire time, gawking at every person we passed, even the janitor. Happy had confiscated his phone, thankfully, so there was no risk of anything top secret making it onto the internet.   
“Mr. Stark,” Happy exclaimed, bursting into the office. “Your prodigies have arrived.”   
I couldn’t help but grin as the leather office chair swirled around to reveal Tony Stark, attired in a suit that probably cost more than Aunt May’s entire apartment. Friendly, dark brown eyes met mine, and I felt a burst of warmth shoot through my veins.   
“Hi, Mr. Stark,” I said excitedly, my nervousness temporarily forgotten.   
“Peter,” Tony replied, nodding in my direction, then turning to Ned. “And you must be the so-called whiz-kid who hacked into my suit?”   
“Y-yes, sir,” Ned stammered, and I glanced sideways to see his face suddenly painted in fear.   
“Have a seat,” Tony answered, gesturing to two empty chairs in front of his desk. Ned and I both took a chair. “So,” Tony began, leaning back into his seat and inspecting me with a hard gaze. “How are things in Queens?”   
“Great!” I replied, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. “Uh, nothing huge or dangerous recently. Just a few robberies, some lower-tier drug dealers, you know.”   
“Hmm,” Tony murmured, stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully. “No more Vultures or the like?” I blinked, my heart skipping a beat as I thought to the nightmare from early that morning. It hadn’t been the first dream, and I doubted it would be the last.   
“No,” I answered, my smile not quite as bright this time. “It’s been pretty quiet.”   
“Word must be getting out about the Spider-Man,” Ned interjected.   
“But you’re both being careful not to let anyone know your real identity, right?” Tony asked in a warning tone.   
“Yes, sir,” we said simultaneously.   
“Good,” Tony replied with a satisfied smile.   
The talk went on for a while after that, just idle, unimportant things. School, Aunt May, Tony getting to know Ned, and Happy sighing every so often as he stood in the far corner, texting practically nonstop. I answered all of the questions with as much bravado as I could muster, although the matter of Vulture and the haunting dreams continued to tug at the back of my mind.   
After about an hour or so, Tony snapped a finger at Happy.   
“Happy, take Ned down to the cafeteria and get him some lunch,” he said. “And bring me back a cheeseburger. No, two cheeseburgers.”   
“Yes, boss,” Happy responded, jerking his head as a signal for Ned to follow him as headed towards the door.   
“And no mayo!” Tony added as the door clicked shut, leaving us alone. I began to twiddle my thumbs absent-mindedly.  
“Am I in trouble?” I blurted out before he could speak, my voice croaking nervously. “Is that why you brought me up here instead of just calling in like normal?”   
“What?” Tony answered, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “Of course not. If you were in trouble I would have come to your place, trust me.” He stood from his seat, and walked to the door at the back of his office that led onto a small balcony. “Follow me,” he called over his shoulder, and I hastily scurried after him.   
The balcony had a lovely view of the New York countryside, with a sprawling lawn lying just beneath it. I admired the view for a moment, but quickly turned my attention back to Tony. The older man leaned against the railing, the smile faded from his face, replaced by an intense, curious look.  
“How are you, Peter?” Tony asked. “Really?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Words eluded me. I thought back to the night before, waking in a cold sweat with a terrified scream, and shuddered.   
“M-Mr. Stark,” I stuttered, holding onto the rail with shaking fingers. “Do… do you ever have dreams? About people and… and things that you’ve fought? Only you can’t do anything to stop them?” Tony glanced to the side, surveying me carefully, and I thought I detected a hint of sorrow and fear hidden beneath the many layers of his mahogany eyes.   
“You mean nightmares?” he said, and I stiffened at the word.   
“Yeah,” I answered, reaching behind me to scratch the back of my neck. Tony sighed, staring out across the lawn.   
“I think everyone does, Peter,” he said vaguely, and I caught a glimpse of a shadow crossing his face. “The things that people like us experience… the things we see… things like that are impossible to forget.”   
“I wish I could forget,” I found myself saying. There was a pause.   
“Yeah, me too,” Tony murmured quietly. I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.   
“I hate feeling so helpless,” I said, looking down at the lush, green grass just below the balcony. “And weak.”   
“You’re not weak,” Tony responded assuringly, hesitating for a moment before tentatively laying a hand on my shoulder. “You’re the Spider-Man.” I tried to smile at his stale crack of a joke, but couldn’t find the strength. Instead, tears welled inside my eyes.   
“I just…I keep thinking, one day it’s gonna happen.” I sniffled loudly as the words unwittingly poured out. “One day I’m not gonna be quick enough, or strong enough, and someone I care about is gonna get hurt.”   
“You can’t think like that,” said Tony, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly as tears began to fall down my cheeks.   
“I can’t stop thinking like that,” I shot back, wiping away the tears in shame, although fresh droplets soon replaced them. “If I make mistakes, people could die. And it’s just… it’s a lot to carry every time you go out there.”   
“But you have the strength to carry it,” Tony replied, and I slowly turned to face him as his voice dropped, almost raw with a rare burst of emotion. “Guys like you and me, we all carry those kinds of burdens, every single day. And yeah, it sucks. Big-time. But you carry those burdens, Peter, because you care about people. More than I ever did when I was your age. And believe me, I’ve learned the hard way that caring isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength, and it’s what makes you who you are. It’s what makes you Spider-Man.”   
“But what if a time comes when Spider-Man isn’t good enough?” I asked tearfully. Tony gripped my shoulder, gazing deep into my eyes.   
“You’re not alone, Peter,” he said. The briefest trace of a smile crossed my lips, and I felt a small shot of relief flow through my veins at his words.   
I began to step closer, holding my arms out.  
“Absolutely not,” Tony said, interrupting my attempt at an embrace, and stepping aside. “Come on, Happy should be back with my cheeseburgers any second.”   
And like that, the Stark Wall had been erected once more. I felt a flash of disappointment, certain that I had gotten through to his softer side for just the briefest of moments. I chose not to be bothered, however, and followed Tony back into office.   
“So,” said Tony, rubbing his hands together eagerly as we re-entered the building. “Karen’s been telling me you have the hots for this girl at school named…” he ran a hand through his dark hair, as if thinking to himself. “Marcia? Mary?” I stared blankly. “Michelle!” He exclaimed victoriously, punctuating the air with a sharp jab of his index finger. My mouth went dry.   
“Oh, M-Michelle?” I stammered, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah, she’s… nice. A good friend. That’s it, really.”  
“You moved on from that Liz chick already, huh?” Tony inquired, his lips quirked upward in amusement as he plopped into his chair.   
“Since when has Karen been talking to you about me?” I asked, avoiding the question.   
“Since you activated her without my permission,” Tony shot back, giving me a pointed look. “You’re not the only one who gives progress reports.”   
“O-oh,” I responded, clearing my throat. Tony smirked.   
Before either of us could pursue the topic further, Happy and Ned returned. Tony clapped his hands together eagerly.   
“Cheeseburger, anyone?”


	3. Slumber Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best writing, but I wrote most of this in the wee hours of the morning. Enjoy to the best of your abilities.

Let’s just say that I didn’t get asked to a lot of slumber parties as a kid. Shy, socially awkward, and a lack of friends wasn’t a great recipe for sleepover invitations. By the time I actually found a decent batch of friends, we’d kind of outgrown that sort of thing. Or so I thought.  
“You’re coming, right?” Ned asked, struggling to keep up with my hastened strides as we walked to our lockers after fourth period.   
“I don’t know if I should,” I answered carefully. I deposited my calculus textbooks into my locker with a soft thump, then reluctantly turned to face my best friend.   
“It’s one night, Peter,” Ned replied with a harsh glare, quickly moving away from the exodus of students making their way to the next class. “Let Spider-Man take a break for once.”   
“But I -”  
“Peter,” Ned interrupted, holding up a hand to stop my protests. “You’re in high school. Have some fun. Besides, Michelle really wanted everyone to be there, and she is the captain of the team.”  
“I just -”  
“Be ready to leave at seven,” said Ned, giving me a teasing wave as he darted off into the crowd. “Tonight’s gonna be great!”   
With a sigh, I hefted my backpack onto my shoulders and set off towards chemistry class. 

******

“This was a bad idea,” I mumbled as Ned steered his beat-up sedan down the long, winding driveway of the Thompson’s extravagant mansion. “And why did we decide to have this at Flash’s house anyway?”   
“Because his parents are loaded, his house is huge, and it’s the perfect place for a slumber party?” Ned offered in response, glancing sideways with a perplexed expression. “Why the grump attitude today? I thought you’d be happy to kick back and have some fun with the decathlon team?”   
“I am,” I assured him. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”   
“You always have a lot on your mind these days,” Ned grunted, shaking his head ruefully. “The whole Spider-Man gig is really getting to you, huh?”   
“It’s a lot of responsibility,” I admitted, letting out a deep breath.   
“Well, forget responsibility,” Ned replied as we pulled around the circular fountain in front of the mansion, screeching to a halt in front of the wide, marbled stoop. “Tonight, we’re teenagers.”  
Three other cars were already parked in a neat row, and Ned parked behind the red station wagon at the rear end. I hopped out of the car, snatching both of our duffel bags from the backseat. Approaching the front door, a sense of nervous anticipation rushed through me. Despite my grumbling, I was excited for the adventures awaiting us inside.   
A sharp knock by Ned was quickly answered in the form of Abe Brown opening the door with a wide grin.   
“Ned and Peter are here!” he yelled over his shoulder, beckoning for us to come inside.   
“Make sure they leave their boring nerd personas outside,” a familiar voice echoed from somewhere nearby, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I strolled into the luxurious, three-story foyer. That, as it turned out, caused me to notice the stained-glass skylight decorating the ceiling far above, which did little to ease my unease from being in such a nice house.   
“Hey guys” I said in a taunting voice as ‘Flash’ Thompson emerged from a nearby doorway, followed by Cindy Moon and Sally Avril, two other decathlon members. “Flash finally found a dictionary.” There were a few snickers from around the foyer, but they quickly dissipated into hidden smiles as Flash’s face morphed into a scowl.   
“And Parker finally found a decent comeback,” he shot back irritably.   
“Hey!” a new voice exclaimed from the doorway behind me. In unison, everyone whirled around to see Michelle striding into the house with a critical gaze aimed at both myself and Flash. “Save it for the pillow fight.”   
“Did someone say pillow fight?” Cindy said, bursting into a smile as she clapped her hands excitedly.   
“But first,” Flash interjected. “Pizza!”   
There was a collective round of cheers as Flash led us through a labyrinth of hallways brimming with sickeningly expensive decor, until we ended up in a kitchen. A stack of steaming pizza boxes lay on the counter, next to a seemingly endless supply of soda cans. Grabbing three slices of pepperoni and a Dr. Pepper, I dug into the delicious meal with my fellow decathlon teammates. When we were all seated at the wide, mahogany table, Michelle called us to order.   
“Yes, this slumber party is for fun and entertainment,” she began, clearing her throat. “But we also have some business to discuss.”   
“Thanks for ruining the effect, MJ,” Abe groaned in between bites.   
“What business?” Sally asked kindly, nudging him sharply in the ribs with her elbow. Michelle paused dramatically, leaning forward in her chair and resting her slender arms on the edge of the table.   
“One of our teammates has been missing practices, missing questions, and causing the team’s performance level to drop.” Silence. I swallowed hard, realizing what was coming. “Peter,” Michelle continued, turning her dark eyes towards me. I tentatively met her gaze, an apologetic look painted across my face.   
“I’m sorry, guys,” I murmured, scratching the back of my head. “I’ve had a lot of… uh, personal stuff going on lately, and I realize now that it must be effecting you all.”   
“Yeah,” Flash agreed from across the table. “We’re having a lot more fun without you around.”   
“Peter’s a valued teammate,” Michelle argued, throwing Flash a pointed look. “But, this kind of behavior can’t be excused forever. Peter, I’m issuing this as a warning.” I nodded, my face flaming as red as a tomato.   
“Get yourself together, Parker,” said Flash. “Or MJ’s gonna kick you off the team.”   
“I didn’t say that,” Michelle replied tiredly.   
“I’ll be better,” I broke in. “I promise.”   
“Alright,” said Cindy, setting down her can of soda. “Enough of this seriousness.”   
“You really wanna beat me up with a pillow, don’t you?” Ned teased.   
“We all do, Ned,” Michelle muttered.   
When the last slice of pizza had been eaten, and the last paper plate disposed of, Flash led the team down to the expansive basement. The main room was a maze of mattresses, blankets, and pillows that had been strewn about. Within moments, Cindy and Abe had grabbed two pillows each and were whacking one another with ferocity.   
My embarrassment forgotten, I darted past Ned and commandeered my own weapon of down feathers. Hurtling it towards Charles Murphy, who had been fairly quiet thus far, I ducked as he narrowly missed his return blow. Charlie laughed as I stumbled to the floor. Crawling away, I managed to avoid another shot.   
Ned and I formed an alliance, erecting a sturdy fortress from several of the mattresses, and it soon became the rest of the team’s mission to break in. We held them off for a solid five minutes before Abe leaped on top, causing the fort to topple into pieces. The rest of the team pounced. I took a weak jab at Michelle, who returned the favor with a hearty whack between my shoulder blades as I tried to scamper away. Giggling, I began turning around, determined to land a heavier blow.   
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Flash sneaking by. A foot snuck in between my legs, and I suddenly found myself in a tangle. Then, I was falling through the air. My head struck something hard, and a blinding pain exploded all throughout my skull as I collapsed onto my back.  
My thoughts swam together, a stream of both nothing and everything swirling as one. I cracked my eyes open, and through my spotty vision I spotted a crowd of blurry faces peering down at me. Muffled voices echoed all around me. It was a moment before I began to discern their voices.   
“… have a concussion.”   
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ned, it’s just a scratch.”   
“Do you see how much blood there is?”   
I coughed, struggling to sit up as my vision cleared. A firm hand grasped my shoulder. I blinked, realizing it was Ned kneeling beside of me. On the other side sat Michelle.   
“What was that?” I croaked, raising a hand to my head. I touched a few fingers to the left side of my brow to find it sticky and stinging sharply. I glanced at my hand to see it stained in blood.   
“Flash tripped you,” Ned answered with a frown. “You hit your head on the coffee table.”   
“It was an accident, I swear,” Flash responded. I glanced up at the boy to see a defensive expression etched across his face, although there was a hint of regret hidden behind his eyes. I sighed, shaking my head in a futile attempt to block some of the pain.   
“Whatever,” I murmured, waving my hand dismissively. “Just let me get cleaned up.”   
“There’s a washroom at the end of the hall,” Flash mumbled.  
“I’ll help,” Michelle suddenly spoke up in a quiet voice, grabbing my arm to steady me as I stood to my feet, and following beside me as I staggered away.   
We walked side by side down a dimly-lit corridor. The last door on the right led into a washroom nearly the size of my entire bedroom, and Michelle led me inside. I hopped onto the counter beside the sink as she tracked down a washcloth, wetting the fabric underneath the faucet and turning to me. As she touched the cloth to the gash running down my brow, I winced in pain, shying away at first.   
“Sorry,” she said simply, trying again with a gentler touch.   
“I guess I deserve it for letting down the team so much,” I replied flatly. Michelle raised an eyebrow at my tone, and I instantly regretted it.   
“Look,” she responded with a light sigh. “I know that was a little humiliating -”  
“A little?” I scoffed. “Did you see Flash’s face? He hasn’t looked so happy since his dad bought him his second Ferrari.”   
“Everything I said was true, and you know it,” Michelle retorted. I gritted my teeth, knowing full well that she was right.   
“I know,” I relented. “And I’m sorry. But you could have lectured me in private.”   
“Where’s the fun in that?” she replied with a smirk as she continued to carefully cleanse the blood from my wound.   
“Besides,” I muttered. “It’s not like Flash puts any more effort into the team.”   
“Exactly,” Michelle agreed, and now it was my turn to look surprised. “Peter,” she said, pausing momentarily to look up at me with a serious gaze. “I push you because you’re one of the best and brightest on the team. You could even be captain, but for that to happen, you have to put in the work.” I gawked at her for a moment, both shocked and flattered at her words.   
“Uh, w-well, thanks,” I stammered. She promptly rolled her eyes, visibly hiding a smile as she continued her work on my gash.   
“Now,” she went on. “What’s all this mysterious ‘personal stuff’ that’s keeping you from decathlon.”   
I tensed, and Michelle stopped again, giving me a curious look.   
“O-oh,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. “It’s… well, it’s a lot to talk about.” Michelle crossed her arms over her chest, her dark eyes narrowing.  
“We’ve got all night,” she reminded me.   
“It’s nothing to worry about, really,” I assured her, sliding down from the counter. “And I promise I’ll get back on track with decathlon.” Michelle stared at me for a second, as if debating whether to pursue the subject further. I held my breath. At last, she shrugged.   
“Fine then,” she said nonchalantly. “If you don’t trust me, that’s cool.” I cleared my throat.  
“We don’t really know each other that well, to be honest,” I responded frankly. At this, Michelle nodded slowly in agreement.   
“I suppose not,” she said.   
“Well,” I said, shoving my hands into pockets to hide their shaking. “We could always, you know…g-go out…” Michelle’s eyes suddenly widened, and panic shot through my veins while my recovery instincts kicked in. “Go outside,” I said hastily, chuckling nervously as I jerked my thumb towards the hall beyond the doorway. “And get to know each other better. And everyone else, obviously. It’s great team-building, you know.” Michelle’s expression was almost unreadable, but I was certain for a moment I saw a glimmer of amusement inside of her eyes.   
“Sure thing, Peter,” she murmured, suddenly masking her face again as she sauntered out the door. I watched her go, my heart thumping wildly inside of my chest. One thing was for certain.   
Ned could never find out about this.


	4. The Oncoming Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! I wanted to make one last update to this before the release of Infinity War this weekend. I can't say where I'm going to take this series going forward, that mostly depends on the events of IW. I won't be updating this for at least another week, possibly more, but the next update will probably contain IW spoilers, so be warned. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Wanted to do a little something to set up IW.

“It might be best to leave this to the police, Peter.”   
I gritted my teeth as I crawled high along the brick wall, peering down into the dark alleyway below.   
“I’ve almost got ‘em, Karen,” I offered to the voice in my head. “I’ve been trying to take down this dealer for three weeks.”   
“I count six assailants with the dealer,” Karen responded as my eyes scanned through the fading evening light. She was right. Five heavily-armed bodyguards surrounded a tall, lanky man with greasy black hair and sallow skin.   
“Okay,” I murmured quietly as I crept closer, inching down the wall. “Six isn’t bad.”   
“Five would be better,” said Karen.   
“We need to talk about your positivity settings.”   
Pushing aside the doubt that nagged at the back of my mind, I strained my ears to listen in on the conversation taking place between the thugs.   
“You worried about Jamie not showing the other night?” one of the guards asked the leader of the group. “Word on the street is the spider guy got him sent to the lock-up.” I couldn’t help but smirk, recalling the tussle from three nights earlier.   
“Jamie’s the least of my worries,” their leader answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s got nothing on me, and he’ll prove useless to the cops.” My stomach dropped at the man’s words.   
“Whatever you say, boss,” said the guard who had spoken earlier, shrugging nonchalantly as he paced back and forth, smacking his gum loudly. I held my breath, keeping to the shadows as I closed in.   
“You don’t think that spider… thing’s gonna show up tonight?” another guard piped up, shifting nervously.   
“I doubt an amateur hero in a spandex onesie could be smart enough to track me this far,” the leader scoffed, folding his arms over his chest.   
“Well that’s a little rude,” I exclaimed as I leaped off of the wall, landing on the lid of a nearby dumpster with a thud. The group of men instantly spun on their heels, all eyes turning towards me. “Do you have any idea who made this suit?”   
Before anyone could offer a response, I shot a web from my wrist, watching in satisfaction as it latched onto the nearest guard. Swinging my arm, I sent the man crashing into one of his companions. They both went tumbling to the ground, screaming and cursing loudly as I bound them to the ground with another web.   
The remaining guards rushed towards me in a flurry of movement, and I quickly jumped off the dumpster, dodging a wave of bullets as they peppered the brick wall behind me. I ducked as the guard nearest to me swung the butt of his AK-47 towards my head. I rammed my shoulder into his larger, lumbering frame. He released a sharp, ragged breath. I sent a web shooting upwards until it grasped a streetlight above. Then, propelling myself off of the ground, I landed a heavy kick into the guard’s chest, and he fell to the ground with a tight gasp. I swung to the brick wall opposite me, scurrying away in the nick of time as another volley of bullets splattered the side of the building.   
“You should… have a little more respect…” I yelled in between breaths. “For personal property!” With my last cry, I launched myself back towards the guards, firing two shock-webs each. They hit their mark with a splat and sizzle, and the bodyguards crumpled to the pavement as the spasmed uncontrollably.   
I skidded to a halt, dusting my hands as I turned towards the leader, who had grabbed a pistol from somewhere beneath his leather coat.   
“Now, let’s put that away,” I said, yanking the weapon away with a web and letting it drop to the ground with a clunk. I could hear sirens approaching, and so could the man, no doubt.   
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” the man spat viciously. I feigned a gasp of surprise.  
“Oh, so we’re going with the threatening speech?” I said, clapping my hands together eagerly. “I love these! Please, continue.”   
“You need to get out of this business,” the dealer continued in a deep growl as a frown covered his pale, weathered face. “Street thugs and drug dealers are one thing, but I’ve heard stories about you. You’re getting in too deep. And one of these days, it’s going to cost you everything.” I sniffled loudly.   
“Wow,” I replied. “That was… moving, really. I’m touched. And flattered that you’re so concerned.” I paused, glancing over my shoulder as a pair of police cars sped into the alley, their doors cracking open as the officers flooded onto the street, guns bared. “But I think I can handle myself.”   
With a wave of my hand, I whirled around, giving a salute to the approaching policemen and women.   
“You’re welcome, officers!” I said before bounding up the wall, and disappearing over the roof of the building. 

After my success with the drug dealer, I decided to call it early for the day, and headed home. Aunt May was more than happy to have me for dinner, of course. After hanging up my suit in the closet and pulling on some comfortable lounge clothes, I scampered to the dinner table, where I scarfed down a hefty meal of spaghetti and garlic bread.   
“Catch anyone good today?” asked May, her eyes glowing warmly behind her wide-rimmed glasses.   
“Yeah, actually,” I answered between mouthfuls. “This drug dealer I’ve been after for a few weeks.”   
“Drug dealer?!” May exclaimed, her face masked in horror. “Doesn’t that seem a little… over your head? You shouldn’t be messing around with gangs. That’s awfully dangerous.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.   
“It’s nowhere close to Vulture,” I muttered. “Trust me, May, I was fine.”   
“Well,” said May, biting her lip as she fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth as she always did when she was nervous. “If you say so. But, and I mean this… if you ever get into a situation where you’re in too deep… you call for help, ok? Promise me?”   
“I promise,” I assured her, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.   
Before the conversation could continue, my cell phone began to ring. I picked up the device, and my heart skipped a beat as I saw the contact name blinking across the screen: Tony Stark.   
“Take it, honey,” May said, her expression softening as she gave me a warm smile. I grinned gratefully, then took off towards my room.   
“H-hello?” I said squeakily into the phone as I closed the door to my bedroom.   
“Peter!” a familiar voice called over the speaker. “I just got a report from Karen about your latest takedown on the streets.” I felt my face flushing slightly, and I shuffled my feet.   
“It was nothing, really,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck as I walked back and forth along the length of my room.   
“Well, great job,” was Tony’s answer. “How’s May holding up?” I sighed, running a hand through my dark hair.   
“As well as she can, I guess,” I responded. “She worries, of course.”   
“Hmm,” Tony murmured. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling…” he paused for dramatic effect, and I waited with bated breath.   
“Yeah?” I asked after a moment of silence, unable to contain myself.   
“It’s your suit,” Tony said. I froze.   
“Do… do you want it back?” I stammered.   
“What?” Tony replied. “No, don’t be silly. The suit’s yours. But I’ve been really thinking about that other suit I slaved over for, you know, a couple months, that you just casually brushed aside like it was nothing -”  
“I appreciated the gesture, Mr. Stark,” I interjected before the intense guilt could overcome my senses. “But I told you I wanted to stay on the streets for awhile. Be a neighborhood guy, you know.”   
“Which I understand,” Tony responded. “But I know you. You have heart, and you can’t stand to see people suffering. And when something big comes, you’re gonna go after it, no matter what. I just want you to be prepared.”   
“What do you mean something… ‘big’?” I asked, my brow furrowing at his mysterious words. There was a sigh from the other end.   
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “So, how’s school going?”   
With that, the conversation drifted back towards normalcy. We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. I set the phone down on my desk, then walked over to my bedroom window. Sliding it open, I hopped out onto the wide sill, dangling my legs over the ledge and staring out over the city.   
The city was dipping towards the edge of the horizon, splashing the sky’s canvas in an astounding array of colors behind the New York skyline. I couldn’t help but smile. The sunsets never got old.   
As I listened, however, I realized it was quiet. Deathly quiet. A breeze rippled through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. I gulped, my eyes narrowing.   
I thought back to Tony’s words from moments earlier.  
“When something big comes, you’re gonna go after it, no matter what.”   
Then, I remembered what the dealer had spoken of.   
“You’re getting in too deep. And one of these days, it’s going to cost you everything.”   
The words sunk into my mind, and I replayed them over and over. An ominous feeling settled into the depths of my heart. Like something was coming. Something inescapable, and terrible. Something like…   
War.


	5. Lockdown: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided not to delve into the events of Infinity War in this series just yet. Those who've seen will understand why, but I won't spoil for anyone who hasn't, and please don't post any spoilers in the comments. Also, this installment is going to be a two-parter. Decided to do a more serious topic with this one, so hope y'all enjoy!

I’ve realized that normalcy is perhaps the one thing people take for granted more than anything else. Every day, we walk into gas stations, restaurants, schools, holding to our blind faith in the ‘norm’. I suppose I had come to expect the constant craziness outside of the classroom, but never would I have anticipated the events of that fateful morning.  
I wasn’t the type of kid who fell asleep in school, but as I sat in the back row of my U.S. History class that sun-filled morning, my eyelids drooped, and my mind was anywhere but the stuffy room where Mrs. Willows was droning on and on about the Battle of Dunkirk.   
“Peter,” a voice murmured from beside of me, and a sharp elbow nudged me in the stomach. I flinched, straightening my posture as I shot a glare at Ned, seated beside of me.   
“Are you with us, Mr. Parker?” asked Mrs. Willows from the front of the room, peering over the top of her wire-rimmed spectacles with harsh gray eyes.   
“Y-yes ma’am,” I responded to the older woman.   
“Good,” the teacher answered, and continued with her rambling. Within seconds, my thoughts had wandered off again, and the cloud of drowsiness settled over my mind.   
It was a few moments later when the first gunshots echoed through the air.   
In an instant, my eyes flew open, every muscle in my body wide awake and tingling in anticipation of action. Time seemed to freeze.  
Then the screams began. Some from the students around me, as they leaped to their feet. Others from the hallways outside.  
More gunshots pilfered the air, the sounds coming from above us; the second floor.  
As the classroom erupted into chaos, Mrs. Willows raced to the door, sliding the latch shut and locking it securely.   
“Everyone needs to be quiet!” Mrs. Willows hissed, although her own voice was trembling, and laced with a fear mimicking my own. “Get to the areas we talked about in the drill, and stay down. Peter, Ned, Simon, help me barricade the door.” A deathly hush fell over the room as the students made their way to the designated areas of the room. The shots continued overhead, accompanied by a chorus shouts and cries of pain.  
In unison, I worked with my two classmates to slide a bookshelf in front of the door, and place black construction paper over the window. Then, Mrs. Willows, motioned quietly for us to join the others. Ned and Simon were hasty to comply, but I paused. With a jolt, I realized…   
MJ. She was in English, on the second floor, where the shots had come from. Terror surged through my veins. The reality of the situation hit my like a punch to the gut. I glanced to my backpack that lay on the floor by my desk. My suit was there, just within reach. I lunged for it, and Mrs. Willows grabbed my by the scruff of my hoodie.   
“Get down, Peter,” she whispered vehemently.   
“I-I can help,” I argued, struggling to keep my voice steady as I tore myself away from her grip. “You don’t understand, I have to go -”  
“You’re not going anywhere until the authorities arrive and give the all-clear,” the teacher responded as she reached for me again, clasping my shoulders. “Now is not the time for heroics.”   
“Get over here, Peter,” Ned beckoned in a fearful tone as he waved wildly for me to join him behind the teacher’s desk at the far end of the room.   
“They’re not safe,” I babbled, my hands shaking as I stretched towards my pack once more. “I need to help them, you… you don’t understand, you have to let me go -”  
“Peter, you are putting everyone in this classroom at risk,” was the haughty, but quiet response of Mrs. Willows. “You need to calm down. Take a seat with your friend.” I gulped, realizing she was right.   
Reluctantly, I complied, staggering to the back of the room, where Ned was waiting for me. I slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall behind me. Then came the waiting.   
The gunshots continued for another five minutes. I winced every time, irresistible tears stinging my eyes as I wondered who lay on the other end of those bullets. People I knew, and shared classes with, and passed in the halls every day. Students I had laughed with, studied with. My heartbeat was erratic, thumping wildly inside of my chest. I shut my eyes, trying not to think of how I could be out there right now, helping to put an end to this horror.   
All around me, my classmates were silent. Some cried. Others held onto one another. A few were texting their loved ones.   
At last, the horrific noises ended. Then, silence. In some ways, it was almost worse than the noise. Footsteps pounded down the hallways outside, but Mrs. Willows refused to open the door. Protocol stated we were to remain in our classroom until the police opened the door and escorted us outside.   
The wait was torturous. I thought of Michelle, huddled in a similar classroom just above my head. Was she alright? Were any of my friends ok outside of this classroom? What was I going to see when I walked out of the door? Shuddering, I swallowed the lump in my throat.   
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Ned whispered, clearly noticing my concern, although I noticed how he was shaking, his wide brown eyes darting nervously around the room.   
“I hope so,” I replied, only to be silenced by a flurry of glares from nearby students.   
By the time the police unlocked our door, nearly an hour had passed since the initial gunshots. Quietly, the officers motioned for us to exit the room with our hands raised, and walk to the outside of the building in a calm and orderly fashion. I obeyed, in a daze as I followed behind Ned. The area we walked through seemed relatively unscathed, although that wasn’t surprising. It sounded as if all the shooting had come from upstairs.  
When we reached the outside at the back of the building, there was a gathering of other students who were being evacuated into the parking lot. I scanned the crowd anxiously, standing on my tiptoes to peer into the sea of familiar faces. None of them, however, belonged to MJ.   
Close by, I overhead a group of officers speaking.   
“We got one shooter from the second floor, but reports were unclear of whether there was another,” one of them said. “We’ve still got five classrooms locked down up there.”   
“Hey!” I exclaimed upon hearing their troublesome words. “M-my friend, she’s up there, I gotta go help her -”  
An officer stopped me, grabbing me roughly by the sleeve of my hoodie and shoving me back towards my fellow students.   
“Stay where you are, kid,” he ordered in a sharp tone. “We’ve got this handled. Go stay with your friends.”   
Growling in anger, I stormed back into the crowd. My vision began to spin as the clutches of hysteria began to wind their fingers around me. My hands tightened around the straps of my backpack as I realized there was an opening just to my left, where I could duck behind a dumpster without being spotted. I peaked over my shoulder to be sure that no one was watching. Ned had disappeared, probably to find other friends. With my resolve growing exponentially, I sneaked behind the dumpster and quickly changed into my suit.   
“Mr. Parker,” Karen greeted me as soon as the mask closed over my face. “What appears to be the situation?”   
“I’m going in,” I answered, stepping carefully out from behind the dumpster.   
I measured the distance, then shot a precise web that connected just above a window on the second floor. Then, giving the web a sharp pull, I propelled myself into the air, flying towards the building. There were shouts, and even cheers from below, from students and officers alike.   
“It’s Spider-Man!” someone whooped. I ignored their cries, as a singular thought rose above all the others tumbling through my head. 

I’m coming, MJ.


	6. Lockdown: Part Two

I crept up the side of the building, sticking to the brick effortlessly. The crowd shouted at me from below, a mixture of encouragement and concern, but I continued up the wall nonetheless. Karen began to speak, but I quickly shut her off. I didn’t need a voice in my head right now. When I reached the second floor, I carefully opened a window, then vaulted into the classroom that awaited me on the other side.   
The sight that greeted me was horrific.   
The door to the classroom had been kicked off of its hinges and lay splintered on the floor. Desks and chairs had been strewn about the room without regard, riddled with bullets and scratches. It wasn’t until I rounded a pile of chairs that my heart stopped.   
On the floor were three students. Young ones, too; even younger than me. Their eyes, still open, were glazed and lifeless. Blood pooled on the floor around their bodies, spilling from the bullet holes in their chests and arms and legs. I quickly checked for pulses, but found none. The one nearest to me, I recognized as a boy named Ashton. I had accidentally bumped into him in the hall just this morning, and apologized. We had spoken just hours ago.   
Now he was… gone.   
I stood there for a moment, stricken by the horror surrounding me. Grief poured into my heart, and I staggered backwards, bumping into the teacher’s desk. There was a squeaking noise from behind the piece of furniture, and I started in fright. Whirling around, I spotted two other students huddled underneath the desk. One appeared to be sporting a bullet wound to her shoulder, while her friend, another young girl, was pressing her jacket to the wound to help stop the bleeding. They both stared at me, wide-eyed in terror.   
“Hey,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I knelt down beside of them. “It’s ok, I’m here to help.”   
“He shot them,” the wounded girl said, pointing at the bodies with a shaking finger. “He… he shot them, you have to help them,” she babbled. “Please, go help my friends -”  
“I’m gonna get you two out of here first,” I interjected, thinking quickly. The girl was obviously in a fragile state, probably going into shock.   
“We can’t leave the room,” the girl’s friend murmured in a hushed voice.   
“I’m gonna get you out through the window,” I responded. “Follow me, quick.”   
Tip-toeing across the messy, bloodstained floor, I led the girls to the opened window across the room. Leaning outside, I waved my hands wildly until I caught the attention of a few of the officers below. Then, I carefully attached a web to the wounded girl’s torso, wrapping it snugly around her slight frame until there was no chance of her slipping.   
As quietly as I could, I lifted the girl out of the window, wincing as she cried out in pain, clutching her shoulder. Then, I slowly let her down the side of the building, my arms aching from the effort. The officers crowded around the wall at the bottom, cutting the webs off of the girl and helping her onto a stretcher. The other girl was a bit heavier, but she soon joined her friend on the ground.   
I breathed out in relief, but I knew my work was only just beginning.   
I set out into the hallway, scanning the area for any signs of life. More bodies were scattered along the floor, and I recognized nearly all of them. I knew their names. What classes they were in.   
I shuddered, knowing that I needed to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. There would be time to grieve later, and yet it was all I wanted to do; to weep and mourn over the lives lost.   
The next two classrooms were similar to the first; two to three students dead, others in hiding. I sent more to the ground, where the officers assisted. Still, no MJ. I wracked my brain, trying to remember which room had been hers.   
When I reached the next room, I heart footsteps, and muffled voices. My heart skipped a beat, and I peered into the room carefully. There, in the center of the room, stood a tall, burly man wearing a black ski mask. In his hands was an automatic rifle, pointed straight at a group of three students crouched in the corner. With a jolt, I recognized all of them. Particularly the girl in front, her hands spread out to guard the other two.   
MJ. My heart stopped. Then the anger took over.   
“Hey!” I shouted without even thinking, stepping into the room.   
As the man whirled around, a volley of bullets flew from his weapon. I narrowly dodged the fray, leaping to the ceiling above him with a quick shoot of a web. Then, I landed a heavy kick into the man’s face, sending him tumbling backwards. I grabbed his rifle, tossing it out of the class door where it landed on the hallway floor with a thud. The man, to my horror, pulled out a pistol from his jacket. There was a gunshot.  
I heard a scream from behind me.   
A bullet grazed the left side of my abdomen and I screeched in pain. I fell to the floor, and my vision spun around me. Then, shaking my head, I climbed to my feet, just as the shooter fired another round. I managed to dodge this bullet, thankfully, and kicked the weapon out of his hand before he could discharge another shot. Then, I webbed the man to the ground, perhaps a bit more than was necessary. I didn’t care.   
As MJ and the others began to emerge from their hideout in the corner, I crouched beside the shooter, pulling off his ski mask with a rough yank. With surprise, I realized he was young; perhaps only a few years out of high school. But the gleam in his blue eyes was hateful and perhaps one of the most evil, vindictive things I had ever seen in all my life. A chill ran down my spine, and I shot a web over his mouth before he could speak.  
“We should go, in case there’s another one,” MJ spoke up, taking charge, as always, despite the tremor in her voice.  
“This is the second,” I replied. “They already caught another one on the other side of the second floor.   
There was a pause, and a tense silence, as if we were awaiting another wave of gunshots nearby. Nothing. I sighed quietly, then turned to face MJ and the others, a boy named Calvin and another girl called Jeana.   
“I’m gonna get you out through the window,” I explained. “The officers will help you once you reach the bottom.”   
“Let’s go,” MJ agreed, leading the march to the nearest window, where she slid it open with a dull thud.   
I let the other two go down first, which was an easier task now that the officers were prepared. Then, it was just MJ and myself.   
“Can I just say,” she said in a light tone, although I knew she was just as terrified and grief-stricken as I was. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”   
“You’re tellin’ me,” I replied with a nervous chuckle, then hastily snapped back to the present situation. Clearing my throat, I held my hand out to help her out of the window. “Now let’s get you out of here.”   
I wrapped a web carefully around her stomach, subconsciously checking for injuries.   
“Dude, I’m ok, really” she assured me, and I felt my face flaming underneath my mask.   
As she climbed onto the window sill, however, her foot suddenly slipped, and to my horror, she fell into the open air. In a split second, I leaped out of the window, then spun in mid-air, attaching a web from my free hand to the roof just a few feet above the window. The web holding MJ became taunt as she halted about ten feet down from where I hung. My arms strained, struggling to hold MJ while simultaneously clasping to the roof.   
“Hang on!” I yelled down to her, my voice cracking as fear clouded my mind.   
“Let her go!” an officer argued from the ground. “We’ll catch her!”   
“Are you crazy?!” I exclaimed, eying the distance between MJ and the ground. I suppose it was doable, but my stomach clenched at the thought of her hitting the pavement instead.   
“Do it!” MJ responded, glancing up at me. I breathed in and out heavily, gritting my teeth together as my shoulders ached, my side stinging as the wound continued to ooze blood.   
“I’m not letting you go!” I shouted down to her.   
“Listen to me,” MJ replied, her eyes softening ever so slightly. “They’ll catch me, ok? You need to let me go!”   
Before either of us could continue, fate decided for us. The web holding MJ snapped. She tumbled through the air, a cry escaping her lips.   
“NO!” I screamed.   
The officers quickly came together, holding out their arms. MJ fell right in the middle of the group, and I nearly fell myself from relief. I shut my eyes for a moment. She was ok.   
I quickly hopped down to the ground as the officers helped MJ to her feet.   
“Are you alright?” I asked, unable to help the squeak in my voice as she pushed past the officers to get to me.   
“I’m fine,” she answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.   
“You did good, Spider-Man,” one of the officers added. “We’re happy you were in the area to help out.”   
“He got the shooter pinned down in that room up there,” MJ said, gesturing to the window we had just fallen from.   
The officers murmured their thanks, then their radios crackled, and they raced off in different directions, leaving me with MJ.   
“I need to go back,” I found myself saying aloud, glancing back up the second story.   
“What?!”said MJ. “You can’t! There could be another shooter!”   
“There could also be more kids stuck up there,” I argued, starting to walk towards the wall.  
“You’ve done enough,” she called, lunging after me.   
“I have to help them,” I responded over my shoulder.   
“You can’t go in there!” she said, grabbing me by the arm.   
There was something different about her voice this time. Concern. Real concern. Worry. I paused, glancing around to see her staring at me with wide, fearful eyes. There was something deep hidden within her brown orbs, and a sudden thought occurred to me.   
Did she know?   
“I…” I began, my voice trailing off as I searched for the right words. “I have to.”   
Her face fell, and tears stung her sweaty, grimy face. My heart stuttered at the sight, and more than anything, I wanted to embrace her, and tell her everything would be alright. I could sense her hand shaking as it squeezed my arm, then let go. Then, she backed away, uttering one last thing before I sprung up the wall once more.   
“Be safe.”


	7. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's Note: I know I said I wouldn't be following a strict story/plot-line, but I think the events of the previous two chapters shouldn't be glossed over, so I'm probably going to be referencing them quite a bit. This chapter is meant as a direct sequel dealing with what happened.)

I straightened my burgundy sweater, blinking at myself in the mirror. I noticed the unpleasant creases wrinkling my khaki pants, and winced. I should have ironed them.   
“Peter?” May’s voice called gently from outside of my bedroom. “You about ready?”   
“Yeah, I’m coming,” I answered while grabbing my backpack, after which I cracked open the door and headed out to the living room. May was awaiting me by the door, a melancholy look splashed across her face.   
“Are you sure you’re ready to go back?” she asked as I halted by the door. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she gazed deeply into my eyes. “You don’t have to go. What happened was awful, and they even said if students needed more time to recover -”  
“I need to go back,” I interrupted, shying away from her attempts at comfort. “I… I need to be there for my friends.”   
“You need to stop worrying about your friends for a second and think about yourself,” May argued, throwing me a pointed glare. “Peter, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that you’re upset, o-or traumatized.”   
“I’m fine!” I exclaimed grumpily, brushing roughly past her and storming out of the apartment.   
The drive to the school was marked by silence. May, although clearly concerned, couldn’t seem to find the right words, and simply sat fretfully in the driver’s seat. I stared dully out of the window, my mind wandering back and forth to nowhere in particular.   
The atmosphere at the school was… different. Instead of the usual laughter and cheer that brimmed inside of the hallways, the corridors were marked by quiet footsteps, hushed murmurs, and fearful glances in every direction. It was the first day back since the shooting. Over a week had passed.   
One by one, we filed into a auditorium, taking our seats. The teachers and principals were gathered on the stage, talking amongst themselves. I squirmed beside of Ned as I waited anxiously. Peering around the expansive room, I spotted MJ seated a few rows ahead with some of the other girls from the decathlon team. I met her gaze, offering a small smile and a wave. She waved back, her eyes lingering for a moment before she turned back to her other friends.   
Even as she looked away, I couldn’t help but watch her absentmindedly. My mind unwittingly recalled the moments during the shooting; of her huddling behind a desk with other friends while the shooter stood just feet away, then lowering her down to the ground. I thought of her rushing after me as I clambered back to the building. The strange look in her eyes had stayed with me ever since. She hadn’t mentioned anything to me afterward, so I supposed my hasty assumption about my identity had been incorrect. Still, there was a layer of doubt hidden beneath that I couldn’t seem to shake.   
The assembly began just then, drawing my attention to the stage. The principal was the first to speak, welcoming all of us back to the school. He acknowledge the travesties that had occurred, and the steps that were being taken to ensure that such a thing never happened again. Various teachers and other adults spoke as well, assuring the students that there would be grief counselors for anyone who desired them.   
The meeting went on and on in a similar manner. I couldn’t bring myself to pay attention to much of it. In my mind, all I could hear were gunshots and screams, echoing throughout my head in a relentless chorus.   
Finally, the assembly was drawn to a close, and the students dismissed to each of their classes, shortened for the day to make room for the meeting. I rose to my feet, trailing behind Ned as we walked out of the auditorium, then out into the hall. With slow, almost drowsy footsteps, I walked to first period.   
The day seemed to drag, and when the final bell was rung, I felt nothing but relief. Shouldering my backpack, I quietly made my way outside. As I slipped through the pair of double doors, I spotted MJ walking up ahead, alone.   
“MJ!” I called to her, scrambling to catch up. She paused, pivoting around.   
“Oh, hey Peter,” she replied with a tiny smile, clutching the straps of her pack.   
“You doing okay?” I asked, my eyes wide as I surveyed her carefully.   
“I guess,” she answered with a shrug. “As well as anyone can be.”   
“Well,” I said, shifting my feet nervously. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” At this, MJ’s smile started to wobble, and she looked away momentarily.   
“Yeah,” she murmured, biting her lip. “I’m glad you’re okay too,” she added, lifting her gaze back to mine. Then, in a move that surprised me, she shuffled towards me, wrapping me in a warm hug. I blinked, then returned the embrace, breathing in the scent of her. When we pulled away, I felt a tug at my chest, but I pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time.   
“I-I should go,” I stammered, swallowing the lump in my throat as I glanced down at the watch strapped to my wrist. The afternoon was beginning to wane, and I wanted to get as much time in as Spider-Man as I could.   
“I’ll see ya around,” MJ replied, the casual nonchalance returned to her tone as she darted off to the bus stop.   
I shot a quick text to Ned, calling off our weekly study time tonight. I wasn’t in the mood. Other things were more important right now.   
The afternoon fell into evening, and then evening to night. As the hours ticked past, I swung from alleyway to narrow street, putting an end to the ventures of as many thugs as I could. Even so, as I crawled through the window to my bedroom that night, 3 minutes past curfew, I felt an itching at my consciousness.   
After a quick shower, I emerged into the living room to find May seated on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.   
“Could you sit down, Peter?” she asked as I entered the room. Her eyes were wide, almost fearful in their surveillance as I approached the couch, taking a seat beside of her.   
“Is something wrong?” I inquired, a hint of concern shooting through me at the grimness of her voice. May regarded me with a sudden look of sadness, then shook her head.   
“I’m worried about you,” she said. I flinched, glancing away.   
“I told you,” I mumbled, “I’m fine.”   
“No, you’re not,” May argued firmly. “Every night since the shooting, you’ve gone out there, past curfew, and you come back here looking even worse than when you left. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the sleeping pills you got -”  
“It’s not that bad, May,” I replied defensively, unable to help the rise of my tone.   
“It is that bad!” May suddenly shrieked, and I winced at the hysterical note infiltrating her voice. “Peter, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that you’re not ok.”   
“But I have to be ok!” I shouted, standing to my feet as I turned to face her. “Because people’s lives depend on it! If I go out there, and I don’t have my head on straight, people could die! And then their deaths? Then that’s on me, May.”   
“You’re just a kid, Peter!” May exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have to wear that kind of burden. You don’t deserve to. You need to take the time to grieve, like the rest of your friends are doing.”   
“I can’t!” I screeched, throwing my hands into the air in exasperation as my eyes involuntarily welled with tears. “I… I just can’t.” I collapsed back onto the couch, suddenly too weak to stand any longer.   
“Peter,” said May, clasping my shoulder with a comforting hand. “Just tell me what’s bothering you.” I gritted my teeth, struggling to calm the raging storm within my mind.   
“I… I could have done better,” I answered, my voice beginning to crack. “I should have gone faster. I should… I should have saved more of them, May.” Tears began to fall down my sullen cheeks as my shoulders started to tremble uncontrollably. “I should have done better.”   
“Oh, honey,” May responded in a sorrowful tone. “You did everything that you could.”   
“What if I could have saved more?” I asked shakily, before a fit of sobs suddenly racked my frame, and May slung her arms around me. I buried my head in her shoulder, weeping into the warm fabric of her sweater. “I-I’m sorry,” I whispered after a moment, then squirmed out of her embrace.   
“Peter, listen to me,” said May, cupping my face in her hands and directing my eyes towards hers. “What happened was not your fault, you hear me?”   
I hesitated, then slowly nodded. May wiped the dampness and tears from my face, then ran a hand through my hair to straighten out the tangles. “We’re gonna get through this, okay?” she continued. The determination of her words suddenly seemed to pour a rush of strength into me.   
“Okay.”


	8. The Patch-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's Note: Ha wow it's been a long time. College is great, but alas, it doesn't leave a lot of time for fanfiction. Anyway, enjoy a new chapter! I was inspired after the Far From Home trailer, so expect some more updates within the next few days/weeks!)

The wind howled as I slipped through the shadows, slinging from one building to the next. It was a slow night in the streets of New York City, as the rain drizzled gently and thunder rumbled in the distance. I guess even crooks and thugs didn't like weather as miserable as this.

I was about to turn in early, go home, and study for my Chemistry Exam the following morning, when I heard the unmistakable sounds of a tussle coming from the next alley over. Creeping along the roof of a warehouse, I peered over the edge and glanced down to the street below.

"What's the word, Karen?" I whispered.

"I'm picking up 3 heat signatures," Karen answered. "Two males, both of them armed, and one woman, unarmed."

"That doesn't sound good," I murmur, half to Karen, half to myself.

"Please be careful, sir," Karen replied.

"When am I ever not careful?" I said with a light chuckle.

"Would you like that in alphabetical or chronological order?"

"I never should have introduced you to Tumblr," I muttered with a grimace. "I think I accidentally gave you some sass." I crept over the ledge, slinking down the wall as silently as I could manage.

"Bold of you to assume I didn't already have it," Karen responded cheekily. I smirked.

Just as Karen had said, the alleyway below us was inhabited by two men and a woman. The woman was backed against an old, rusting dumpster as the armed men, both wearing ski masks, shoved their pistols close to her face while wrestling for her purse. The woman was putting up an impressive fight, kicking and shouting at them viciously.

"Let me go!" she screeched angrily.

"I'd do what she says if I were you," I chimed in as I neared the ground.

The two men spun around. With the attention off of her, the woman sidled from behind them and bolted back to the main road. I lifted an arm off of the wall, grabbing the closer man's pistol with a web and throwing it to the pavement with a loud clatter. I launched myself into the air, grasping the wall on the opposite side of the alley. As the momentum swung me over the men, I landed a hefty kick into the empty-handed man's chest, sending him to the damp pavement with a groan. I couldn't help but let out a whooping shout in satisfaction.

Then came the gunshot.

There was a sudden force that slammed into my left arm. I blinked, and then the pain hit. My arm went limp. I collapsed mid-swing. My body fell to the asphalt as a hoarse cry escaped from my mouth. I hit the pavement with a thud, my ears ringing and my heart racing. I could faintly detect the sound of alarms blaring in my ear, and Karen saying something along the lines of "gunshot wound" and "pierced the brachial artery" and "going to bleed out".

"K-Karen?" I mumbled, shaking my head in an attempt to rid myself of the dizzying sensations. With a groan, I pushed myself back to my feet, glancing around to see that the two men had fled from the alley. I could hear sirens in the distance, undoubtedly in pursuit after the gunshot.

"Shall I call Miss May?" Karen inquired.

"No!" I protested, staggering towards the dumpster. I leaned against the metal surface, peering down through the visor to inspect the wound.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Definitely not," I answered as my fingers gripped the torn fabric of the suit. Blood was oozing from the wound, and as I glanced to the underside of my arm, I realized with a grimace that there was no exit wound. "Guess we're gonna have to dig this bullet out on our own," I said, biting my lip as a wave of fresh pain tore through my arm.

"There's a hospital -"

"I can't go to a hospital!" I interjected. "Remember the whole 'keeping my identity a secret' talk we had?"

"Keeping you alive is my top priority, Mr. Parker." I moaned, in part from the pain, and also from Karen's badgering. Then an idea sprang into my head as I surveyed my surroundings.

"H-how close are we to Midtown?" I asked.

"Midtown School of Science and Technology is eleven blocks to the north of our current location."

"Time to break into our favorite lab, then."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I bounded down the alley and carefully scaled the brick wall at the end. Not an easy task with only one working arm, but not much of a choice. I gritted my teeth against the pain as my feet hit the pavement on the other side.

My vision became hazy, and spots swam before my eyes as I followed Karen's directions through the back streets and alleyways. I still wonder how I even made it to the back of the school without collapsing, but I didn't have any time to question my luck. Instead, I staggered to the nearest recognizable window on the bottom floor. The light was already on. Strange. I knew that Mr. Hodges liked to open the windows during labs to help with the chemical smells. I also knew that he occasionally forgot to lock the windows. My luck seemed to continue, and the window slid open with ease. I slid over the edge, slumping to the floor. I winced as blood pooled on the cold white tiles, and scrambled to my feet with as much haste as I could muster.

Before I could look around the lab for the proper tools, I noticed that there was someone else in the room. My heart stopped, my blood running cold.

"Spider-Man?" MJ exclaimed, dropping the pencil in her hands as she stood from the stool behind the far table. I clutched my wounded arm, my wits battling for control against the raging pain.

"Peter, you should leave," Karen whispered into my ear.

"M...ma'am," I said to MJ in a breathless tone, backing towards the window. "S-so sorry for bothering you -"

"You got shot!" she interrupted, rushing towards me.

"Peter!" Karen protested. I slid my hand to the side of my face, pressing the small button behind my ear that would mute her.

"I-I should go," I stammered, flinching as my back hit the windowsill behind me.

"Don't be stupid," MJ argued, grabbing my uninjured arm and dragging me away from the window. "Sit down. Let's patch you up." I stare at her in shock for a moment, but follow her instructions nevertheless.

"You don't have to do this," I murmured as I plopped down onto a stool.

"You've saved my life more than once," MJ responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't mention it."

I watched as she located a pair of tweezers, along with a bundle of string, scissors, a needle, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a bandage from the first-aid kit. She took the seat next to me, and set to work, grabbing the tweezers first.

"It looks like it hit an artery," MJ mused, surveying the amount of blood seeping from the bullet wound.

"The b-brachial artery," I answered, swaying in my chair as I struggled to maintain consciousness.

"Hey, stay with me," said MJ, slapping my cheek. "You've lost a lot of blood, but you need to stay awake. Keep talking to me." Her words sounded distant, muffled even.

"S-stay... awake," I repeated, blinking rapidly. I bit down on my tongue to keep from crying out as MJ slid the tweezers into the wound.

"Sorry," she said as she withdrew the tweezers with the bullet nestled inside. "Now this is really gonna hurt."

Before my muddled mess of a mind could even process her words, she poured the hydrogen peroxide over the wound. Unable to contain myself against the pain, I screamed in agony. When the wave of pain began to subside, my vision blurred, and I could feel myself slipping away. MJ spoke with concern and panic, but her words were indecipherable to me.

Then everything went black.

******

When I awakened, I was sitting on the floor of the school lab, propped against the outward wall. It took a moment for my senses to realign themselves. When my vision cleared, I glanced down at my arm to see the wound stitched together neatly. It still throbbed in pain, but less than it had before.

MJ was sitting next to me, her eyes closed and her lips parted to release slow, deep breaths. Within my battered suit, I felt my stomach twist. She seemed so peaceful, and I hated to disturb her. But I couldn't leave her here.

I raised my hand to nudge her awake, resisting the temptation to run my fingers down her cheek, or through her hair. Instead, I shook her shoulder. The effect was instantaneous, and she bolted upright.

"Oh, you're awake," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with one hand while the other pulled herself to her feet. I followed suit, taking my time to avoid putting unnecessary weight on the injured arm.

"Thanks for patching me up," I said, shifting my feet as I looked anywhere but her bright eyes. "What were you even doing here in the first place?"

"I study here most nights," MJ answered, shrugging her slight shoulders as she packed a stack of schoolbooks into her weathered backpack. "It's peaceful here. Not so peaceful at home." I paused, realizing for the first time how little MJ spoke about her life at home. I knew she lived alone with her father, but not much else.

"Well, can I walk you back?" I find myself saying, scratching the back of my neck as I await her response. She raises an eyebrow in skepticism.

"I don't think you're in much of a position to offer protection," she riposted with a tiny smirk as she headed for the open window.

"It's the least I can do," I replied, waiting until she had made it to the street outside before jumping after her. I struggle to hide the burst of pain that shoots through my arm.

"You should go home and get some sleep," MJ said, shouldering her pack as we paused at the crossroads outside of the school. "I know my way around these streets, trust me." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then drew a piece of paper out of her pocket, beckoning for my hand. I held it out, my brow furrowed in confusion. She pressed the paper into my hand, then backed away.

"In case you need another patch-up," she called. My heart skipped a beat as she threw a wink in my direction, then darted down the nearest side street.

Blushing underneath my suit, I unfolded the piece of paper. A grin slid up the sides of my face. It was her name, followed by a phone number.

With a skip in my step, I returned to the night.


	9. Claws of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Back again! Really happy with how this chapter turned out. Also, I should let you all know that I'm going to be ditching the one-shot method for now, and focusing on more of an actual story-line. I hope it turns out okay, but we'll see. Any thoughts you have on this chapter would be greatly appreciated before I continue with it!

Meeting MJ at the school laboratory became a common occurrence in the weeks that followed. At least once every few days there was some sort of injury that needed mending. I couldn't tell if the criminals were growing stronger, and I weaker, or perhaps if I was growing more careless in my attacks, knowing that the consequences of such would be getting to spend time with MJ.

Seeing her underneath the guise of the mask was invigorating; as Spider-Man, rather than Peter Parker, I felt... freer. She never pushed to learn my real identity, and I never offered to disclose it. We both seemed content with the situation, and I didn't see a reason to change it. Not yet, anyways.

But for now, I certainly wasn't going to complain. Aunt May, and even Ned took notice of the smile that seemed eternally present on my face. I couldn't help it. Life was going better than it had in... well, a long time.

But that was about to change.

It happened on a night that seemed nothing other than ordinary. The usual throng of pick-pockets and petty thieves were out mingling the streets. I had just stopped a particularly nasty thief from breaking into an ATM outside of a sub joint, and had slipped into a side street to catch my breath before swinging back into action.

I pulled my phone out of the special pocket I'd had Aunt May sew into my suit, and checked for any messages from MJ. I'd had to get a new phone for my duties as Spider-Man; specifically because MJ already had my number as Peter Parker, and that was a cover I definitely couldn't blow. As I scanned the notifications, a text from half an hour earlier caught my attention, reading "I'll be in the lab tonight if you decide to get yourself beaten up ;) - MJ" I grinned, then began to type out a response.

As my fingers touched the screen, something cold and metal sprung from the shadows behind and knocked me off my feet. The phone went flying from my hand, crashing onto the pavement several feet away. I laid sprawled across the ground, a sharp pain spreading across my upper back where the blow had hit. I rolled over with a mild groan, searching for the hidden adversary.

The alley was empty.

"Karen?" I asked, speaking softly into the cool night air. "What was that?!"

"I'm not sure, Peter," Karen murmured in response. "I'm not detecting anything abnormal in the near vicinity."

I leapt to my feet, my senses tingling. Even from underneath the suit, I could feel the hairs on my arm brushing against the fabric as if in warning. Something was out there, waiting to strike. I stepped deeper into the alley, squinting through the shadows. Nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, sharp iron claws grasped my head and abruptly raised me into the air. I cried out in both pain and surprise, but my voice was cut off as the mysterious talons threw me against the brick wall over ten feet away. As my body slid to the ground, I screamed in agony. A fiery ache tore through every single inch of my body. I couldn't move, and to even breath was a struggle.

Getting back on my feet was a strain, as pain numbed my head and torso, and fear hung over my mind and soul like a cloud. My spider-senses were going off the charts, and my heart was pounding a million miles a minute. I swung my head from left to right, and all around.

"P-Peter," Karen said, her voice sounding... broken. "Something is b-blocking my... my s-signal-" Her words were cut short.

Then silence.

"Hello?" I called, hating the quiver in my voice.

My hands were trembling, and my entire body shaking. Perspiration dampened my skin, dripping down my brow underneath the mask. As I strained to listen, all I could hear was the thumping of my heart.

All around me, the alley was silent. Shadows remained still along the brick walls, refusing to even budge. Not even a stray piece of trash dared to move. The wind had ceased. All was quiet. It was deafening.

Then, like a snake slithering down the trunk of a tree, a voice floated down from somewhere above.

"Spider-Man."

The voice, deep and raspy, was colder than ice. A shiver ran down my spine. Then, glancing to the sky, I finally saw my hidden foe.

I froze.

A man, stout in stature, stood on the ledge of the building behind me. His head, crowned with dark hair, was adorned by a pair of shaded glasses; an oddity considering it was nighttime. The man wore some sort of metal suit that covered his entire frame. But neither of those things were as odd as the four metallic arms protruding from the man's back. The ends of the mechanical devices bore three sharp talons, and I recalled the sensation of the invisible claws digging into my skull.

"What do you want?" I stammered, taking a step back from the wall of the building as I surveyed the man up top.

In response, he leaped off of the ledge. I found myself holding my breath, but to no avail. The metal arms broke the man's fall with a sickening crunch as the talons sunk into the asphalt. The man straightened and even with his short frame, his presence and demeanor were dominating. They filled the shadows around us as his dark, soulless lenses stared deep into my eyes.

"I want you to see this city burn," he growls, taking a step closer. The claws were ripped from the pavement, leaving small indentations in their wake. With a menacing whir, the arms hovered and spun in the air around the man. I stumbled backwards, my heart hammering inside my chest.

"W-who are you?" I asked, swallowing the massive lump in my throat.

"You don't know me," he answered with a sly grin. "But you will soon." My back hit the wall on the opposite side of the street, and still the mysterious man stepped forward in pursuit. His steps were slow, and methodical, as if each were weighed with meticulous calculation before completion. His next words sent a chill down my spine. "Soon, you won't be able to close your eyes without seeing my face. Everywhere you go, you'll find yourself looking over your shoulder. You'll see my face on every corner, except it will only be but a shadow." I breathed in sharply as the man came face-to-face with me, his nose nearly brushing my mask as I struggled to maintain my composure. "You'll hear my voice in your head, whispering your worst fears." An arm snaked over the man's shoulder, its talons latching onto my chest. I winced from the pain, but hid it as the man continued to speak in a gravelly tone. "I'm going to be your worst nightmare, Spider-Man. So good luck sleeping."

With a low cackle, the man stepped back, just in time for the arm attached to my chest to fly forward. I screamed as the claws pierced the suit, then tore into my flesh. My vision went blurry as I was slammed against the ground. Still, the talons refused to release me, and I was raised into the air once again by whatever powers the man was using to control them. I shot an electro-web towards the man, but another arm intercepted and blocked the hit. My head exploded in pain as I was thrust back to the ground, then again, and again, and once more.

I could feel blood soaking the abdominal region of my suit. My skull felt as if it were shattered into a million pieces, my skin as if it were a raging inferno. Try as I might, there was nothing I could do against the might of this man. My webs never even reached him, for the mechanical arms were always one step ahead, and too strong to be held down by the webbing.

Then, it stopped.

The talons released themselves from my chest, and I shouted from the pain as I was flung to the ground once again. Then, the arms swiveled around to grasp me by the neck. With a bit more gentleness, it raised me into the air to face the man. My legs felt like jelly, hanging limply as the man approached with a sneer etched across his face. If I'd had the strength I would have punched the living daylights out of him.

"Don't worry, Spider-Man," he hissed, the maniacal grin spreading across his weathered cheeks as I fumed, clenching my fists in rage. "This won't be our last meeting. In fact, I expect we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other."

"Don't suppose I could get a name, then?" I replied in a breathless tone. He snickered, then leaned forward, placing his lips next to my ear. I inhaled, holding my breath as I squirmed against the tight grip of the arm.

"You can call me... Doctor Octopus."

Before I could even think, the talons relinquished their hold on my shoulders, and I fell to the pavement with a dull thud. I let out a groan as every ounce of pain crashed over my weary, trembling frame. Still, I had no time to wallow in self-pity, and pulled my head off of the ground to inspect the alley.

It was empty once again.

I collapsed against the asphalt, my body overwhelmed in pain and defeat. As my thoughts began to drift, and my conscious slip away, I heard a distant voice. Karen.

"Mr. Parker?" she asked, her words muffled against the blood pumping all throughout my veins. "I'm detecting significant blood loss. You need to be taken to a medical facility."

I opened my mouth to refuse, but no words came out. I could feel the bits of dust and gravel digging into the open wounds on my chest as I lay on the ground, and gritted my teeth against the torment.

The pain was too much. Despite my sincerest efforts to keep awake, I could feel the inevitable tug of slumber and the satisfaction it would bring. And so I began to tumble, breath by breath into the darkness...

******

"Wake up! Please, God, oh please wake up..."

I knew that voice. And I had to answer.

I cracked open my eyes, and sure enough, MJ was crouched beside of me. Somehow, she had rolled me over and had begun to tend to my wounds. I already felt the sting of gauze and antiseptic.

"H-how did you find me?" I stuttered, staring up at her through the eyes of my mask.

"Karen called me," she answered in a shaky tone. .

As I awakened further, I noticed her hands were trembling. Through the light of the nearby lamppost, I could see that her dark skin was streaked in dirt and tears, and her clothes were damp and wrinkled.

"Did you see him?" I asked, my voice layered with cracks as I let her continue her work.

"Whoever it was that attacked you?" she replied. "No, but I wish I had. Who in the world was it?!" 

"Doc... Doc Oc..." I tightened my jaw in frustration as the words struggled to surface. Fear and dread seemed to have settled over my mind at the mere thought of that terrifying man.

"Take it easy," MJ responded, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I shrugged off the gesture, scrambling to my feet.

"I can't," I said, holding back a moan from the agonizing pain that tore across my abdomen. "I... I have to go after him... before he hurts more people."

"Not right now," MJ argued, standing alongside me as I took a moment to catch my breath. "You can barely walk!"

"He's dangerous," I exclaimed, staggering away from her. "I have... I have to stop him."

"You're hurt!" she yelled after me, and I hated the sound of panic in her voice. "It's not safe!"

"It never is," I called over my shoulder. "But I have to do it."

"Listen to me -"

"I have to do this, MJ!"

"He could kill you!"

"Better me than someone el -"

"PETER!"

I stopped. So did my heart. My head spun.

I turned to face her, and felt my very being ache as I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembling. An immense sadness seemed to roll over my shoulders, nearly crushing me with its weight. She knew. And now I did as well... that this burden of mine was one that she now carried with me. That thought alone brought a storm of unwanted tears to my eyes.

And so I peeled off the mask and faced her.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered in a hoarse tone.

Instead of responding, MJ sprang forward, flinging her arms around my neck and kissing me straight on the mouth. Something inside of my chest exploded with pure, raw joy. I kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, and we lingered for a moment, pressed tightly against one another with fingers in each others' hair. My heart seemed to groan as I pulled away, but I knew that now wasn't the time to fully express myself. Instead, I held her face in my hands and wiped the delicate tears away with my thumbs.

"Please..." she murmured, pleading with me with her deep brown eyes. "Let us help you before you go after him. You can't go out like this. You need to heal. We need to make a plan." I met her gaze and felt my breath leave momentarily.

I knew she was right. I was no match for this sort of adversary on my own, never mind in this condition. Doctor Octopus would have to wait.

"Okay," I relented at last, and she released a sigh of relief. "Now let's figure out how to get home without getting blood all over the carpet."

"I've already texted Ned," MJ said, waving her hand in dismissal. "He'll meet us there." I gaped at her in surprise, but she continued speaking before I could offer a reply. "Now tell me about this Doc guy who beat the snot out of you."

"I don't know," I responded, leaning against her for support as we made our way towards the alleyway's exit. "There was something about him..."

"Something weird?" she asked. I shook my head, and shuddered.

"No," I answered. "Something...sinister."


End file.
